Faded Pages
by WingedFlight
Summary: It is a thick book, bound in worn leather and embossed with gold. Heavy, yellowed pages hold rows of thick-inked, handwritten letters. The margins shine with once-bright illustrations, the colours of which have dimmed over the decades.


**A/N: **Written as a submission for the 2010 Revolution Awards on NFFR, this is a response to Prompt #1 (write an excerpt from a Narnian book) with a dash of Prompt #3 (fill in the blanks of the Narnian timeline). Many thanks to my beta, and to the wonderful ladies running the NFFR Awards this year. Also, congratulations to animus_wrimus, the winner of the Award!

-x-

The library falls to an instant hush when the human boy walks in through the door. He appears to be lost, perhaps stunned by the magnitude of Cair Paravel. It looks as though he will turn about and leave, but the sudden giggle of a trio of squirrels in a far corner catches his attention. He stiffens and then drifts forward awkwardly, staring with undisguised wonder at the tall, mahogany bookshelves and countless texts. When he finally pauses, it is over an illuminated volume held upon one of the many pedestals.

It is a thick book, bound in worn red leather and embossed with gold. The boy lifts the cover and turns the heavy, yellowed pages with respect, pausing to examine the rows of thick-inked, handwritten letters. The margins shine with once-bright illustrations, the colours of which have dimmed over the decades. One finger hovers above the page as though to stroke the depiction of a lamppost set against trees and falling snow.

"The Arrival," Pushpins explains from his position on a nearby shelf. The boy jumps and withdraws his hand as though expecting to be told off. Pushpins pretends not to notice, all too pleased with the chance to examine this visitor from another world. "Welcome to my library, son of Adam."

"Gregory," the boy supplies, and glances down at the book again.

"And I am Pushpins, humble hedgehog head-librarian." He raises onto all four paws and leaps from the shelf to the boy's shoulder. Gregory stumbles at the sudden weight, tensing from a fear of being pricked by a quill. Pushpins ignores this.

"A very good choice, Gregory," he exclaims, gesturing with a paw at the book, "This is one of my favourites, kept safe in this library since the Golden Age. Page sixty-three, for example."

-x-

_There are nigts I think of endings__  
><em>_Death, departurs, and goodbyes  
>too frequant in this fragile life of ours.<em>_  
><em>_so many gone in four short years,  
>unspoken fairwells hanging still within<br>these holow empty halls.__  
><em>_There are nigts I think of endings  
>and forgoten goodbyes.<em>

_- _"Endings and Goodbyes" from_ Journals of a Just King_, vol 2_._

_Unspoken Goodbyes and the Departure: An essay by Rew Nightingale _

_While Endings and Goodbyes is one of King Edmund's lesser known poems, it holds a crucial key to understanding the life of the Just King. Written in the fourth year of the Golden Age, it conveys the pain of dealing with death. While disregarded by many scholars, Endings and Goodbyes supports the theory that the Just King had foreseen the Departure of the Golden Sovereigns years before the event had even taken place. _

_It was King Edmund who led the charge against the Telmarines in what would become known as the Battle of Whispering Heights. While an overall victory for the Narnians, this clash had resulted in severe losses on both sides. One of these casualties had been Sir Ralimor, who had become a close friend and advisor to the Just King. This battle is also significant as it had ended with hostages on both sides – most notable of all being Queen Lucy the Valiant. Five days of tense negotiations had followed, culminating in the Treaty of Whispering Heights and a mutual release of hostages. _

_It is suggested that Endings and Goodbyes was written during this negotiation period as a lament for the needless loss of life. However, there are too many references to the momentous Departure in this eight-line poem to ignore completely. "These holow empty halls" (line 6) reflect the state of Cair Paravel after the Golden Sovereigns disappeared, leaving behind the regret of "unspoken fairwells" (line 5) and "forgoten goodbyes" (line 8). While "four short years" (line 4) appears to reference the time the Golden Sovereigns had already ruled Narnia when the poem was written, the number itself could also refer to the four rulers themselves, who would soon be lost forever. _

_To further examine the implications of this poem, one must also take a look at a series of correspondence between King Edmund and Queen Susan during the time of battle and negotiation… _

-x-

Gregory is trembling when he closes the cover of the book. Pushpins can feel the shiver, although he cannot quite understand its cause. Perhaps it is the amazement of having read the words of one of the greatest kings of Narnia, or shock at the theory that the Just King had had premonitions of the Departure. Why, the first time he had read the passage as a naïve library assistant, Pushpins had been filled with such awe that he had been unable to stop thinking about it for days.

"It is awesome, is it not?" he asks gently, allowing the boy time to recover. He leaps from Gregory's shoulder to the pedestal and places one paw below the "G" in _Historie of a Golden Age_. "Other texts have many details of the great era, but this is the sole volume that chronicles those years from the end of the Hundred Year Winter until the Departure. There are details on each of the Golden Sovereigns' lives – the quests of Lucy the Valiant; the rulings of Edmund the Just; the graciousness of Susan the Gentle, and the victories of High King –"

"Peter," Gregory interrupts, his face white.

Pushpins looks up in pleasure. "Why, you know of the Golden Sovereigns in your own world? Tell me, are the legends as great as I imagine? Or – it has been said that time works different between the worlds; are the Golden Sovereigns still alive where you come from? Are they well? Do you know of them?"

Gregory stares at him, mouth working though no word comes forth. Then, in a sudden, jerking manner, he turns and hastens away, down the aisle of shelves and out the library doors.

-x-

The mirror melts to liquid to allow his hand through. Even half-expecting this, it startles him; Gregory jerks back only to stop before the tips of his fingers lose contact. He can't afford to miss the opportunity to get out, get back – not now.

But even the knowledge of the mirror's destination doesn't stop the shudder of apprehension. Gregory glances behind him once more at the tightly-packed linen closet and thinks of where he wants to go – after all, it would be just his luck to be taken to some other strange universe rather than the dormitories of Hendon House. It is not that he holds any particular fondness for the school, but Gregory has been out of his element for days now, and he wants the comfort of a familiar setting.

As if the sudden partiality for Hendon House means something to the mirror, Gregory's hand is suddenly pulled forward again, arm disappearing into the silver liquid. The pull quickens, becomes stronger – he fights against it even knowing what is happening. And then, with a sudden surge of power, the silver rises up to meet him and Gregory falls forward into the dark shadows of a familiar broom closet.

When he had first gone through, it had been a smooth and painless transition. This time, it is as though the mirror is not quite ready to release him. Gregory's foot catches on the bottom rim of the frame and he trips forward, reaching out too late to catch himself. His hand scrapes against a shelf, his other arm catches against a broomstick. There is a sudden clatter as various cleaning supplies rain down upon him, and in the chaos, Gregory stumbles forward and straight into the door. The latch slips, and in a strangely deliberate way, the door slowly swings open to deposit Gregory in the middle of the dormitory hall.

He picks himself up gingerly, checking arms and legs and head for damage, but it seems that the only harm he has caused has been a catastrophic mess. For a brief and terrible moment, he thinks the book has been left behind, but there it is, half-hidden in a pile of sponges. Gregory snatches it up and dusts it off, tucking it beneath his arm before turning back into the hall.

And there, like a ghost in a navy robe, stands Edmund Pevensie himself.

-x-

Edmund enters the room like a shadow. Peter notices because even though he's a frustrated school boy, the observant king is still a part of him, too. He doesn't give his brother the satisfaction of surprise, just glances up briefly and then down at his book again. The page of equations causes him to throw down his pen in disgust, and he shakes his head.

"Why is it, Edmund, that after fifteen years, I'm still terrible at sums?"

His brother grins and drops into the chair opposite. "Only you, brother." He leans across the desk to read the problem upside down. "Don't forget to carry that one. Remember, think of them as troops."

It is old advice, but Peter brightens and reaches for the pen again. The next question still takes time, but at least he is able to follow what is going on. It is with an air of success that he scribbles down the answer, and then in a delayed reaction, looks up to study Edmund's face.

"Narnia?" he breathes, voice low enough so as not to disturb the fellow students in the hall. "You've been back?"

But as soon as he says it, Peter knows it isn't true. Edmund holds that look in his eye, but it isn't quite _fresh_ enough.

Sure enough, his brother shakes his head slowly, more out of disbelief than anything else. "It is a strange situation, Peter." He glances down again, not at the paper but through it.

"What is?"

He has to wait as Edmund sorts through his thoughts. "Gregory Davison," he pronounces softly.

"Gregory Davison!" It is nearly inconceivable to associate Davison, of all people, to a conversation begun with a mention of their other home. He shakes his head in a vain attempt to settle the thought in his mind. "Davison?"

Edmund makes no reply - not in words, at any rate. His hand curls into a subtle C on the surface of the desk. _Careful. _

And barely a moment later, the hand is withdrawn. Peter registers footsteps that resolve into a tall and scowling figure who drops into the chair to Edmund's right: one Gregory Davison himself.

-x-

Most boys are either in the common rooms, the study hall, or outside. Edmund chooses a corner of the hall a short distance from the dormitory's back staircase with this in mind, aware that there will be few interruptions.

Peter draws up beside him without a word, although his curiosity is shining through. Gregory, on the other hand, is still scowling. When he realizes that Edmund has halted, he casts a surly glance around before remarking, "This is a rubbish place to stop."

"Is it?" Peter asks, the look in his eyes making it very clear that he is not at all questioning his brother's decision.

The boy makes no response. Instead, with one more exaggerated glance about the room, he puts his book bag down on the ground and reaches inside. Even having seen it the night before, Edmund cannot help but feel a shiver of awe as the volume is revealed. Beside him, Peter draws in a sharp breath.

"There it is," says Gregory, and it almost looks as though he wants to toss it to the ground, but even he can recognize the importance of the book. Peter holds out a hand; when the volume is passed to him, he does not open it immediately.

"I think you'd better tell the whole story," Edmund suggests with a glance at his brother's face.

Gregory rolls his eyes before beginning. It doesn't take long to describe the mirror at the back of the closet, the confusion at finding himself in a fantasy-style castle, the discovery of the book. "And it's stupid, but it has your names," he finishes darkly. "You and the names of your sisters. All four of you."

Peter is reacting just as Edmund had expected; that is, not reacting at all, but standing still and silent with a distant gaze.

"You clearly know something," Gregory continues. "I'm not an idiot – I can see you believe me. What happened, then? You were in the mirror for a few years? I fell into someone else's make-believe world?"

Bother it all, this is not something Edmund wants to think about so soon after their return from the country. "Wardrobe," he corrects shortly. "It was fifteen years. Why were you there?"

"Me?" Gregory blinks in confusion. "I fell through the mirror."

Peter had opened the cover of the book to thumb through pages. Now he looks up, having sensed where Edmund's thoughts are leading. "But why were you needed?"

The boy looks between their faces in bewilderment. "I don't –"

"How long were you gone?" Edmund interrupts.

This, at least, yields an answer. "Three days," Gregory says immediately, "but then I came back and barely any time had passed at all."

"None," Edmund corrects. This just brings another scowl to Gregory's face.

Peter is flipping through the book again. "There must have been something happening. Some crisis, some battle, some quest."

Gregory folds his arms over his chest. "I already told you. I went through the mirror, wandered around, found the book, and came back." He pauses, and adds slower, "Although, there was some commotion about – a border raid. Pirates or something. Marines."

Peter closes the book with a dull thud. A shiver runs down Edmund's back. "Telmarines?" he asks, his voice husky. "The Telmarines are invading?"

-x-

"This is ridiculous," Edmund snickers as he and his brother pour over the text Gregory had brought back from his unwanted trip. The two boys are seated on the floor with their backs against the wall, the book open in front of them, Peter turning the page every couple of minutes.

Gregory is still standing, leaning across the opposite wall in undisguised reluctance to take part. Now that the Pevensies are no longer watching him, the dark look has left his face; he feels much too tired to keep up the pretence of ill-content for long, anyway.

"Absolutely absurd!" Edmund complains again, and looks up from the book to ask Gregory, "Did you say this was supposed to be one of the best resources on the Golden Age?"

Gregory nods once and Edmund groans.

"Rubbish," Peter agrees. He puts a finger down to point out some passage, and remarks, "It sounds as though Su did nothing more than stay at home and fret when the rest of us went to war."

Edmund snorts and reaches forward to turn the page before Peter can read any more of it.

Gregory thinks of how that hedgehog librarian chap had idolized the book. In a sudden burst of irritation, he exclaims, "It can't be all rubbish. Some of it was written by you."

The boys both stop to glance up at him in astonishment. "Written by me?" Peter repeats.

"Edmund," Gregory corrects, "Although something of yours might be there, too. Page –" he pauses to wrack his brain, "sixty-something."

Peter find the page almost immediately, a finger marking his position as he reads until a choking laugh has him turn away. Edmund glances down in exasperation, which immediately turns to a disbelieving anger.

"This – no. No. Absolutely not. Does privacy mean nothing to a king? This is… beyond unbelievable. A complete breach of privacy. Who _did_ this? Why, I ought to-"

"Run them through?" Peter suggests, and laughs again.

Edmund glowers. "I knew I should have burned the journal."

Peter has bent over the page again. "There's a critique! 'A crucial key to understanding the life of the Just King,'" he quotes. "'Conveys the pain of dealing with death.'" I say –" His smirk disappears in an instant. "Oh, Edmund. This chap thinks you knew about the Departure before it happened."

-x-

It is dark again when Edmund creeps the dim hallway in search of a broom closet and a mirror. The silence is eerie, too reminiscent of the night before when a dream had prompted him to find Gregory Davison falling from another world. _'These holow empty halls,'_ he thinks, and groans again at the thought of his poetry exposed to the world. _'It was a phase!_' he had wanted to protest, _'Nothing more than that!' _But of course, no matter how he complained, it would make no difference now. He really should have burned the journal when he'd had the chance.

He almost expects the broom closet to be locked, although he cannot say why, but the handle turns and the door swings open without a sound. The closet looks just as it had after he and Gregory had hastily cleaned it the night before, with everything haphazardly shoved onto the shelves in a vague semblance of order. And there in the back, untouched and out of place, is a full-length silver mirror.

"_Once a king of Narnia, always a king of Narnia," _Aslan had said, and Edmund believes that. And here before him is a portal to his home, a gateway between worlds. He wants to reach out and touch it, to see if Narnia really is as secure as Gregory had said. Lucy and Susan are not here with him, and Peter is asleep in his dorm, but had they not gone in at different times at the start of the Golden Age? If he could just check, if he could only get through, if he could arrange for the girls to come visit –

His fingers reach out to brush the smooth, glass surface and that is all he feels – smooth, cold glass. No softening, no liquid sensation at his fingertips. Nothing but a disappointed expression staring gloomily back into his eyes.

"I thought you'd said you could only go back if you were called."

Edmund spins about to see Gregory standing in the shadows of the doorway just out of range of the mirror's gaze. His arms are folded across his chest, but his face is more relaxed than Edmund is used to seeing. Perhaps he no longer finds it necessary to put up a mask, or perhaps it is an ease brought on by the night atmosphere.

Edmund tucks his hands into his pockets, trying to hide the welling disappointment. "It never hurts to try," he replies lightly, "And it could have been that speaking to you was the way in which I was called."

Gregory opens his mouth to make some remark, but thinks better of it and drops his hands into his pockets to mirror Edmund's position. "Well," he says awkwardly, "Now what? Do you think I should go back?"

"It's your adventure," Edmund responds.

-x-

_The Golden Sovereigns first entered Narnia in the beginning days of spring, but it was deep autumn when the Four finally departed. Their fate is unknown even to this day; no bodies were ever recovered, nor were there signs of attack. Some speculate that the Sovereigns returned to the world from whence they came. If this is so, it is to be hoped that when Narnia's need is again at her greatest, the Golden Sovereigns will return once more. _

-x-

END


End file.
